


breaking it in

by rjosettes



Series: Tumblr Fics [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Moving In Together, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:26:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rjosettes/pseuds/rjosettes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For reasons unknown, Kira and Scott purchased their new couch a week before moving into their new apartment. With Lydia moving into grad housing and Malia and Stiles splitting a new place with some of Malia's coworkers, it had only made sense for the two of them to finally try out living together.</p><p>Their boyfriend reluctantly lends a helping hand with moving in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	breaking it in

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Derek Hale Rarepair Week at tumblr! There's a tiny bit of sex (or rather, afterglow) in the last three paragraphs at the end here, in case you're not into that and would like to avoid it.

The number on Derek's messages icon has hopped from one to three in the time that he's been willfully ignoring it. But his kitchen his clean, his laundry is in the dryer, and there are only so many situps he can do before someone starts to actually worry where he's disappeared to. He mops his forehead with the bottom of his shirt, stalling those last few seconds to get his courage up and attempt a happy face.

 **Stiles:** ok but what happens if you put a werewolf on the moon  
**Stiles:** asking for a friend

“Oh my god,” Derek groans. He'd really dodged a bullet on this one, after all. Stiles had still been dating Scott and Kira when Derek started hanging around more often, and for a second there it had looked like something might progress in that direction. Thankfully, Stiles and Malia had decided they were more in the market for casual sex than polyamory. Derek had been stunned by how easily Stiles and Scott transitioned back into best friends that don't fuck, as if several years of their time together hadn't reeked of teenage hormones and dried spunk. He's never sure, now, if he remembers those years fondly or with a sense of profound relief that everyone's far out the other side of puberty at this point.

He sends Stiles a single emoji flipping him the bird, fully prepared to receibe a whole chain of them in return. His third message is from Scott, whose name is absolutely not surrounded by various moon phases in Derek's contacts. Of course not.

 **Scott:** hey, can you help us move into the new apartment tomorrow? everyone else is busy and we're the only ones kira trusts with the couch

For reasons unknown, Kira and Scott purchased their new couch a week before moving into their new apartment. With Lydia moving into grad housing and Malia and Stiles splitting a new place with some of Malia's coworkers, it had only made sense for the two of them to finally try out living together. They've been together something like six years, three times as long as Derek's even been on their radar, romantically, and they're starting a whole new era of their life. Veterinary school is likely to kick the shit out of Scott, endurance-wise – even alpha werewolves need sleep. Kira's first job in the music industry is little more than fetching coffee and evading hands aimed at her ass by the higher-ups. It pays peanuts, but she still gushes about the meeting she sometimes gets to step into, obiously happy to be anywhere near the action.

The most they know about the new place is that Derek had found the building for them, skimming around through real estate with the expertise they assume he has. In all honesty, Derek inherited a building back home; it was no thoughtful career move or interest in renting properties. They've been going on and on about the amazing rent price to anyone who will listen for weeks. No one needs to know that they're only paying half of what they owe, the rest coming out of an account Derek will feed money into every month. It's as simple as he has the cash and they just don't, and he doesn't want them to feel as if he's holding it over their heads. Lydia most likely knows, judging by her reaction to the pictures Kira sent her; her careful eyes are always on the lookout to make sure her pack isn't being scammed. So far, though, she's kept his secret.

He genuinely wants to help them move their things, because he knows everyone else is busy moving themselves or working. Besides, it's what a Good BoyfriendTM would do when the couple he's dating needs a hand doing something...well, couple-y. He's got an able body and the spirit is willing. It's just...

There's a peace and quiet in living alone that Derek never had, not in Beacon Hills and certainly not during those years in New York, incessant noise at every turn no matter what he or Laura did to try and drown it out. So many humans and machines in once place left them overstimulated all the time. Living on his own, now, far enough outside the city that he can decide on his own how many people he wants to see any given day but close enough to see Scott and Kira whenever he gets the urge, is a luxury he's not taking for granted. He can leave his wet towels on the floor and eat breakfast naked if he wants to, as long as the curtains are closed. There's nothing he doesn't like about living by himself.

Doesn't mean he doesn't see some merit, some reward he's not getting, in living together with someone he loves. His relationships have mostly been brief disasters, and the one that had worked for him – if a little patchily – was never stationary long enough to resemble cohabiting. He's not even certain he can say that he and Braeden loved one another in the common sense of the word. Nights at her side had crept by after she fell asleep, leaving him to stare at the ceiling for hours, even though he'd trusted her to brandish a gun at him. It had been a work in progress for as long as it had worked, and then they'd realized how futile it was trying to improve on something in stolen moments and empty stretches of road. He still sees her now, from time to time, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't still feel it, curling his body around hers in welcome. They're something special to one another, more than just symbols of altered perspectives, and they always will be.

What he has now, though, is more than he'd imagined for himself. Morning selfies that Kira snaps in her pajamas, dark hair fanned across Scott's red pillowcase, nose scrunched – 'it's too early'. Waving over Scott's shoulder when he skypes with his mom, the expected friendly boyfriend in the background instead of the vaguely threatening stranger lurking around town. Date nights that are more takeout, movies in bed, and the occasional walk than anything else because it suits them all. Adventures are Malia and Stiles's duty to handle, Kira documenting every moment to show around later, giggling and giddy with adrenaline. It takes time for Derek to put his finger on what feels off about things, until one night his heart jumps into his throat while Kira and Scott and he knows – this is normal. This is what his life on cruise control consists of now. His highs are seemingly unreachable peaks and his lows are annoying, at best, a day in bed because he misses his family or a head cold that logically shouldn't be able to exist. 

Scott is asking for help to enhance that normal for himself and Kira, to make sure they wake up tomorrow morning in bed together and most mornings for the rest of their time together. Derek can't imagine it being any less than Scott's forever. He can't begrudge them that, no matter what the voice in the back of his head keeps reminding him about the whole situation.

The drive isn't long (shorter than usual, which may have been part of his agenda) and he notices the triple smile emoji message from Kira when he's paused at a red light. They'd packed up most of their things the day before with help and crashed on the couch that had come in Scott and Stiles's furnished apartment for the night. He's headed straight for their new place to take a couch up two flights of stairs and pack boxes from point A to point B until they're settled. Scott, on the phone, had mentioned maybe grabbing something to eat after they'd worked up a sweat. It's just another day, he reminds himself, and turns onto their new street. 

The moving van is perfectly parallel parked outside, rear door raised. Behind the couch, he can see a dozen or so boxes and an end table that Derek recognizes from Scott's room in Beacon Hills. He's peering around for anything else that might be heavy when something slams into his chest, his arms instinctively grasping tight as he feels legs wrap around his waist. “Derek!” Kira exclaims, chilly lips sending shivers through him as she presses along his forehead and cheeks. “We have popsicles. Also, your face is purple now. Totally unrelated, promise.”

He sticks his tongue out just to see hers in return, leans in to taste that artificial grape flavor she can never get enough of. Growing up, it had been the color he passed off on Cora so he could keep the pinks and reds, but he can only think of Kira in the summer now – condensation dripping from the plastic wrapper, streaking down between the triangles of a bikini top. Grape's not half bad. 

Scott comes into view over his girlfriend's shoulder, all grins as he shakes his head, stripped to a tank top and cargo shorts with suspiciously lumpy pockets. “We had to take apart like four things,” he admits. “I'm trying not to lose any of the screws and stuff. Kira could probably make anything fit, but...”

“I'm not a big fan of making lightning for household projects.” She slips down from Derek's arms, hands coming to rest on her hips as she looks between them. “Well? Can I catch a ride on the couch or not?”

The answer, they discover as soon as Scott backs up the first three steps, is no. There's a lot of tipping and tilting (“Pivot!” is Kira's incessant cry, though Scott knows next to nothing about Friends) to get up the first flight before they rest at the landing. Kira tries to bury herself in the sewn-in cushions when residents come past them, sidling along the couch's edge to get by and politely averting their eyes. The second flight is worse, if possible, but goes a bit faster for the experience, and before long they're wedging the thing through the doorway with minimal grunting.

Everything after that seems like a breeze by comparison. Watching Kira practically sprint up the stairs with a box in her arms hovers somewhere between seeing a professional who's perfected their craft and waiting for a car crash to happen. She never falls, at least not on the steps, and the end table comes up last, intact, while Scott marvels over his initials etched into the wood.

“Who's M.S.?” Derek asks, fingernail dipping into the ridge at the top of the M. “Summer camp girlfriend?”

Scott's face goes warm as he shakes his head, dragging his thumb over the letters. “That's Stiles. Mikołaj.”

“Meeka-why?” Kira asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“It's Polish. Neither of us could spell it at first, but we at least knew it started with an M. By the time we actually understood it, his...well. His name was Stiles, by then.” Derek watches him study the back of the table carefully. “I have an idea.”

The fine control it takes to extend only one claw is something Derek would never have expected from a bitten wolf before Scott came along. The sharp point of it gouges out wood – or pressboard, as it turns out to be – until more letters start to appear: KY and DH to the side of Scott's name, rather than beneath, with Stiles's. The whole thing will face the wall after all is said and done, but the romantic gesture's not lost on anyone, Kira laying another of her grape kisses on Scott's smiling mouth.

Derek's just about to get himself a popsicle from the ice chest on the kitchen tile when the both of them grab a wrist and pull him into the living room, upright boxes scattered around the floor. The one in the center is upright, though, and Scott quickly tosses a tablecloth over the cardboard, gesturing excitedly at Kira. “I told you there'd be food,” he points out.

Deli sandwiches and potato salad and even, god bless them, brisket come out of the chest in plastic wrap and Tupperware tubs. Kira sets a ginger ale down for each of them and drops a straw through the tab hole in her own before she settles down with crossed legs and a turkey sandwich on whole wheat. “It's a good surprise, right?” she asks as mustard slips just past her lip, caught fast with a knuckle and licked away. “Date time on moving day?”

“A great surprise,” Derek agrees, peeking between his rye bread to find corned beef and sauerkraut. “I was expecting McDonald's two streets down.”

“Like you would ever.” Scott fumbles through a nearby box and comes up with three forks for the less handheld food. “We were going to make deviled eggs, but Malia helped us load up all of our boxes, and there were boiled eggs...”

Derek laughs, remembering the day that his cousin learned she didn't hate eggs after all – just the scrambled and fried ones. “Might as well be candy, I know. This is perfect, really. Couldn't get any better.” There's a moment's silence, no more than the space of a few unspoken words, but the look shared between his girlfriend and boyfriend has Derek on edge. “What? What did I say?”

“It's just. Are you absolutely positive you mean that?” Kira asks, eyes wide as she peers at him expectantly. “There's nothing you can think of that would be even more awesome?”

He glances around the room, craning his neck to see into the bedroom, where the queen-sized bed is still entirely unassembled. “I don't think sex on the floor is the best idea.”

They both break into giggles, leaving Derek flustered and confused. He tries to remember if today is anything special besides moving day, but his phone alerts him a week ahead of their birthdays in case he forgets, and it's the wrong season for an anniversary. He blinks down at his hand when Kira moves it for him, stretches it onto the makeshift table, palm up and waiting. It hits him a split second before it happens, and then there they are – a pair of spare of keys, warm from Scott's back pocket.

“We know you love your place,” Scott tells him. “But we thought you should know that...we always like it when you're here.”

Derek stares at them, nothing but little silver-colored metal shapes, easy entrance to a door he could strong-arm if he needed to. These are for want, not need – for can't-sleep-alone nights and pancakes are useless for one mornings. He swallows. “Are you asking me....”

“You can have your own drawer!” Kira says brightly. “When we put the dresser together, that is.”

Later, when Derek is catching his breath, still only inches from the vee of Kira's spread thighs, he feels a sudden pang of guilt. “Your new couch,” he points out sadly, carefully daubing at the smear of come on the armrest. “You love this thing.”

“Mmm,” Scott agrees, warm against his back, hands petting at his sides. “Why do you think I bent you over it in the first place? Our whole apartment needs breaking in.” He laughs like he knows Derek's insides have gone liquid with want again, eyes locked on the arch of Kira's back as she stretches. “First one to figure out the bed instructions gets to be in the middle tonight.”

Kira miraculously remembers every bit of Japanese from her freshman year, but nobody's complaining.


End file.
